He had been waiting a long time for this evening.
Everything was ready; he’d seen to that. The chilled Champagne, the candles, the flowers, the scented oil. The freshly laundered sheets.
And now she was in his arms.
His chest pounded with desire. He forced himself to breathe.
She nestled her head in his lap, sought him greedily. He moaned, pleasure building within him like a breaking wave.
Afterwards, Donald lit a Mallardboro and exhaled slowly, blowing flattened smoke-rings. The night would not be cheap, but so what? His credit was good. She would put it on his bill...
[Hat tip: Lair Simon]